Jays2 (6/?)
Title: Jays2 (6/?)
Genre: J2 RPS, AU
Pairing: Jensen/Jared although - Heh! You know major league teams have 25-man rosters, right?
Rating: PG-13 (NC-17 for later episodes)
Warnings: Language, Baseball, Schmoop, Angst, Boy-Sexin’
Word Count: 2,747
Disclaimer: Fiction not fact. All these beautiful guys belong to themselves. Jensen and Jared belong to each other, we all know that :D Only the words are mine. No copyright infringement intended for the use of the MLB teams/players/logos. This is for fun, not profit.
A/N: Okay, this part is a little more baseball heavy but it needs to be. It’s the build-up that’s key here. As an aside: I seriously thought that my J2 Big Bang entry was the most favouritest fic that I’ve ever written, but damn, this one is coming close to first place in my heart! Thanks for staying with me on this!
Read, review, enjoy! Comments = Love!
Summary: We’re heading towards the end of May and as the numbers rack up in the ‘Loss’ column, patience wears thin and tempers flare, especially when it comes to the team’s two aces.
Six: There’s No ‘I’ in Team
The Toronto Star Sports: Baseball
The Last Word by Jackson Donnelly
SEATTLE - After a truly terrible road-trip out west, the Jays are likely grateful to return to the Rogers Centre, seeing as how their record at home is marginally better than their numbers on the road - and that’s a very narrow margin, folks. The Blue Birds are currently riding a 12-game losing streak after being swept by the Angels, Oakland and the Mariners, and will look to pitcher Michael Rosenbaum once again to pull them out of their slump. Without run support, however, even for Toronto’s ace, this could be a monumental task. Last season, you could almost guarantee a win with the team’s captain on the mound, but this year it seems, even that is not a certainty. Even so, he and Welling continue to be the most productive players on the team. Defensively, the team is doing well, and saving face, considering their lacklustre offensive skills; it’s safe to say that without their fielding capabilities, this bad dream of a season would look more like a nightmare. It’s all about silver linings though, and the Jays have a few: Vahdat, Hodge and Bratt are stellar in the outfield, and all of them have strong throwing arms - opposing base runners are careful in testing them; the infield also routinely gets the job done in the field - minus Mayhem, of course, who currently leads the league in errors. No surprise there, but even his numbers are slightly better than last season. There’s also a nice on-field rapport between Padalecki and Ackles, and this second baseman-shortstop combination actually leads the league in turning double plays. Rein in your shock, people; the Jays do have potential. On the flip side, there’s the subpar offense and the shoddy pitching. Rookie Mark Salling was stripped of his position as a starter, and although Kripke went with a four-man rotation for a while, middle-reliever Chris Pine was given a chance as the fifth starter, a move that seems to be working well since Pine has had a couple of solid outings so far. The Jays’ woes can’t all be blamed on the offense, though: Beach is swinging a hot bat, leading the team in home runs with nine, and Vahdat, Bratt and Kane have a decent number of runs batted in between them. While it’s more than a little worrying that the long ball is eluding the Jays this year, it always seems that when the bats are mighty, the bullpen crashes and burns. Boreanaz and Daley tend to have their work cut out for them with the dismal middle relief, and the strain is starting to show. So yes, there are silver linings. Unfortunately for the Jays, those silver linings also come with dark clouds.
|*|*|*|
“So, we’re 13 and 29,” Kripke informed them as soon as everyone settled down for the clubhouse meeting, as if they weren’t all painfully aware of their wins and losses, and the team’s standing in the division. “13 and 29. Seriously. What the hell happened to us? We had a good thing going in Dunedin and it’s been shot to hell.”
Mike stood up, his face sombre in a way that the new players had never seen before. “I don’t get it, Krip. I mean, if I saw these guys slacking off of training, I would have something to say right now, but each and every one of us is giving it our all, man. I see it - and you know you see it too. I don’t know what the fuck it is, but all that work is just not translating into victory come Game Day.” He sighed and waved his arms around the team. “We’re trying. The offense is tweaking their stance, their swings. The bullpen is battening down on the strike zone and training hard. Defensively we’re going from strength to strength. But out there against another goddamn team, all that hard work means fuck all. If we head into the All-Star break this way, we’re screwed. Again. Sideways.”
“You don’t have to tell me that. Jesus! Damned if I know what was different in Dunedin,” Kripke mused in frustration, looking completely exhausted, and nearly the end of his rope with Jays GM, JD Morgan, breathing down his neck. If the team continued this way, he would have to send some of the guys back down to the minors and give some of the others on the 40-man roster their shot. It was not something he was looking forward to. This particular group of guys had endeared themselves to, not only him, but all the coaches.
Tom took in the gloomy faces around him for a full minute before getting to his feet. “You know what we were doing differently in Dunedin?”
Kripke looked up at his ace, albeit somewhat dejectedly. “What?”
“We were having fun, man,” Tom gesticulated wildly, Mike ducking out of the way of his flailing arms. “Now, we’re so goddamn serious all the time. What happened to the goofing around? What happened to the prank wars? What happened to the impromptu dance-offs on the field while lip-synching to Britney Spears?” He looked around at his teammates, most of whom were now smirking, re-living the team’s unforgettable (no, really, some of them had been scarred for life) performance of ‘Hit me baby one more time’. “We were playing ball and having fun. That’s the whole point of baseball. Sure, it’s our goddamn jobs, but guys, Jesus - we’re paid to play baseball! And we’re kinda good at it. So, we’ve given the serious shit a shot. It hasn’t worked. Now, let’s cut loose and go back to being ourselves!”
“Are you fucking kidding me, Tommy?” Mike looked at him as if he’d lost his mind. The expression on his face was more than a little angry. “We’re tanking out there! Of course it’s serious!”
Tom frowned at him. “Don’t even start with me, Mike. You’ve been an asshole for almost a month now - you’re lucky I’m such a laid back guy, or we’d be having serious problems...”
“Guys, guys...” Kripke tried to interrupt, not wanting his two best players to come to blows.
“No! No,” Mike interrupted, turning a furious glare at Tom. “You got something to say to me, Welling? Say it!”
“All right! I think you’re way too wrapped up in getting the Cy Young award this year. That’s a selfish attitude and it’s hurting the team!” There was an uneasy hush as eyes widened around the room, the players recoiling as they watched their star pitchers come to a stand-off. Jim Beaver, the first to recover, inched closer, ready to step in between them if necessary.
“I’m being selfish?” Mike asked, his even tone belying the dangerous glint in his eyes.
Tom huffed out a breath, trying to reason with him, but he refused to back down now. “I get it, Mike. You’re an amazing pitcher. You’ve been with the Jays for a long time now, there’s two more years left on your contract, and you want it bad. I understand. I’ve been there. But it’s becoming your sole focus. What about the team, man?”
Mike clenched his teeth together, a muscle jumping in his jaw. “You’ve been here - what, three months?” He asked snidely. “I’ve been here three years, you fucking asshole. This team means everything to me!”
“And you mean a whole heckuva lot to us! You think the guys don’t try extra hard when you’re on the mound?” Tom yelled. “We as a team know you deserve that award. We are working to try and help you get it! But you’re also this team’s captain. You’re supposed to lead by example, and when you’re focused on yourself, that’s the message you send to the rest of us. We used to train together, man - now, you’re even leaving me in the dirt!”
“Is that what this is about?” Mike drawled with a derisive laugh. “Are you feeling neglected, Tommy?”
Tom bit his lip to catch the retort he really wanted to shoot at Mike but he refocused on the big picture and kept a tight hold on his temper. “There are young pitchers on the team who need your expertise. They could use your advice, your guidance. It helps to hear it from a fellow pitcher and not just your coach. That has not been happening recently, and there’s only so much I can do to pick up your slack!”
“Fuck you,” Mike gritted out, his eyes livid as he advanced on Tom.
“All right, that’s enough,” Kripke warned, eying them warily.
“Come on, Krip!” Tom turned to his manager, “you know I’m right!” He let out a gusty breath. “You said it yourself back in Dunedin. Focus on the team. It’s about that loyalty; we need to be there for each other. Well, bullshit, man! We are not doing that right now!” He dragged a frustrated hand through his hair. “There are only four guys here who seem to really support each other and work together: Jensen and Jared, and Pine and Quinto. And you know what? These two lead the league in double plays and their batting averages are inching up. Pine’s pitching improved so much with Quinto catching him that he’s in the starting rotation now! The rest of us... I’m not saying we don’t work at it - we absolutely do. But we’re working alone. And this team is about being together. It’s like we left Dunedin and forgot that.” He looked around at his stunned teammates, looking at Mike last. “We can’t afford to forget that. This isn’t just about one or two guys. This is about the team. If we can’t come together now - we might as well give the fuck up.”
Mike refused to look at him, and Tom sighed in resignation. He knew he had gotten through to him, but it would be a bitter pill for Mike to swallow. The words needed to be said, though, and unfortunately, he was the only one strong enough to say them to Mike.
He just hoped he hadn’t screwed things up between them too badly.
|*|*|*|
Mike slammed the door to their - no, his, he just let Tom live there after all, he thought pettily - apartment shut, revelling in the slight satisfaction he got from seeing Tom flinch. The other man was just coming out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on a dish-towel, and the look he gave Mike was guarded.
“I see we’re going to have a problem,” Tom murmured so quietly that Mike almost didn’t hear him.
“No shit, Sherlock.”
“Michael,” Tom started, throwing the cloth in his hands onto a chair in the kitchen before coming out into the living room to face him, “you know I’m right about this. I didn’t mean it as a personal insult to you...”
“It sure as hell sounded like one!” Mike raged. “You called into question my ability to lead this team!”
“It wasn’t like that and you know it! All I wanted to get across was that we need to make some changes or we’re all screwed...”
“Winning the Cy Young is important to me.”
“I know it is - but it’s not everything!”
“Easy for you to say, asshole - you took it from me last year! If our situations were reversed, you would be singing a different tune.”
“The glory of the Cy Young was never as important to me as it is to you.”
“Says the guy who’s won it already. Been there, done that, huh, buddy?”
“Something’s gotta give, Mike...”
“Maybe something already has, Tom,” Mike spat caustically and turning on his heel, he stalked off into the bedroom and, for good measure, slammed that door shut behind him.
Fuck Tom, anyway, he thought angrily as he stripped off his clothes and stepped under the power shower. All his life, the only thing Mike had wanted to do was to pitch in the majors. He had worked so hard at it, each and every day, from little league, to high school, to college. It had paid off; he had been a first round draft pick back when the Jays had been in contention for the wild card at least. The Cy Young was like a pinnacle he had yet to reach, second only to getting a World Series ring on his finger. It was every pitcher’s dream; he couldn’t believe Tom was holding it against him.
A nagging voice in the back of his head niggled at him though. He knew the pitchers in the bullpen were struggling. He knew they couldn’t post numbers in the win column if they didn’t get their shit together with the middle relief, and ease the pressure on Boreanaz and Daley. He supposed Salling could use a good talking to as well. There wasn’t much he could do with the offense except maybe go over some of the strategies the opposing pitchers used against them, little things he as a pitcher had picked up over the years, hints on how to dupe the other side. It was not something he had not been doing lately and... aww, shit.
He fucking hated it when Tom was right.
Unfortunately, when he came out of the bedroom a few minutes later, Tom was nowhere to be found.
|*|*|*|
“Tommy!”
“Hey, Jensen, can I come in?”
Jensen opened the door of their apartment wider, waving Tom inside, exchanging a concerned look with Jared as he peered at them from the couch.
“Everything okay, Tommy?” Jared asked.
Tom collapsed into an armchair by the couch and sighed, accepting the bottle of water Jensen held out to him with a grateful look. “Mike and I just got into it again.”
Jensen merely nodded as he returned to his spot on the couch and surprisingly Jared didn’t say anything either. “You have dinner yet, man?” Jensen ventured a few minutes later.
“Not really hungry,” Tom muttered, staring morosely into his water. “Could I crash on your couch, tonight? I think if I went back there and we start it up again, I just might hit him.”
Jared’s eyes widened as he darted a glance at Jensen, unconsciously shifting closer. “Yeah, dude, no problem. Except, the couch isn’t big enough for you and you’re pitching tomorrow. Take my bed.”
Tom smirked at him. “And where are you gonna sleep, Sasquatch?”
“With Jen.” Jared stated simply, as if this was a commonplace occurrence and that had been a colossally stupid question. Jensen blinked and Tom gave a muffled snort at the look on his face. Jared just grinned, looping an arm around Jensen’s shoulders and pulling him flush against his warm body. “S’okay, Jen... we can cuddle.”
Jensen closed his eyes and wished for patience as Tom barked out a laugh. “You two are awfully cute together,” he said with a fond smile.
“We’re not together,” Jensen gritted out.
“Coulda fooled me,” Tom smirked, and for the umpteenth time, Jensen wondered if maybe he and Jared were a little too close for a couple of straight guys. He shrugged out of Jared’s hold on him, and stood.
“I was heading to bed anyway. Make yourself at home, man.”
“If it’s okay with you, Jared, I’d like to turn in as well.”
“Yeah, dude, no worries. We’ve all got to be at the ball park bright and early tomorrow anyway,” Jared said, leading the way to his bedroom. Jensen paused on the threshold of his room for a split second and looked at Tom.
“Is this thing with Mike gonna be a problem?”
“I don’t know. He’s unpredictable when he’s in a mood like this. He’ll come around,” Tom assured them, looking so certain that Jensen wondered at it; their friendship must be really solid for the two of them to just know each other so well. “I was just pissed off, you know. I don’t like fighting with him. I just wanted to give us a little space and time to mull things over.”
Jensen nodded and bade the other man goodnight, going into his room and getting ready for bed. He cocked an eyebrow at Jared when he came in a few minutes later and just vaulted onto the bed, sending Jensen’s carefully turned back bedding into total disarray. He stared as Jared smirked up at him, and then made grabby hands in his direction.
“Cuddle me and die, asshole.”
|*|*|*|